


with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Flower Crowns, Gen, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Robb is Theon's queen of love and beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

**Author's Note:**

> I was taking Robb-based prompts on tumblr and [bottom-barnes](http://bottom-barnes.tumblr.com/) asked _what about Theon crowing Robb his king of love and beauty in a tournament. As kids or as grow ups because either way Theon totally thinks that Robb is the prettiest and best thing he's ever seen._ It might have spoken to my soul. Anyway don't expect anything serious here especially the tournament pretext but really it's 100% approved mindless fluff. Title is from Mumford and Sons and I still don't own anything else except for the fluff.

_Shit_ , Theon thinks as Dacey Mormont raises up her hands and yields from her position on the ground with his sword pointed at her throat,  _now that wasn’t in the plans_.

Thing is, when Ned Stark came into the main hall in Winterfell one day and said that he was talking to Lord Umber a few days ago and the man had said that it would be a  _nice exercise_  to have a  _friendly jousting tournament_  for all their children and heirs in his castle, Theon had thought it was a completely stupid idea. Lord Stark had said that he agreed, also it meant that they could try organizing it and maybe it could have been an occasion for everyone’s children to mingle more than usual, and while no one in Winterfell was technically of age since they had decided on the age range being from twelve to fifteen, he thought it would be nice if they all attended anyway.

Clearly Sansa was overjoyed at the prospect of attending  _a tournament_. Robb was excited to see people fight, of course, and Jon looked excited at the idea of tagging along with Robb, and Theon had figured he’d tag along too if only because the alternative was staying in Winterfell with Lady Stark, a four year old and a newborn, and considering that he only ever talks to  _Robb_ , he had figured it wasn’t a good idea.

And then on their way, Robb had gone and told him he should enlist.

“What,” he has replied.

“Why not? You’re thirteen. You’re plenty good at sparring.”

“I’m not a northerner,” Theon had replied.

“Well, Father says you’re his  _ward_. Why wouldn’t you?”

As if. Robb did have a point, even if he knew better, of course he knew. “Because no one wants me to,” he had sighed.

“And since when do you care?”

Which - was a technically valid point. So Theon had enlisted, figuring he’d get thrown out at the first round anyway. But then he had beaten one of Lord Karstark’s nephews, and - it had kind of felt  _nice_ , all right? Not that everyone looked pleased at it, but Robb  _had_  looked overjoyed and was about the one person cheering for him (no, all right, Jon had as well but Theon is sure he did that just because Robb was doing it, too), and - okay, maybe he had felt a bit vindicated at seeing a bunch of northerners being angry that  _he_  didn’t get booted out the first time.

So maybe he put in some more effort in the next. And the next. And really,  _he has no clue_  of how he even got to the final round or of how he ended up leaving Dacey no choice but to yield after a fairly long fight, never mind that he thought he wasn’t that good at swordfighting, but all that practice he did with Robb while running up and down the stairs might have helped.

And so now he’s  _won the damned joust_  and - he has no clue of what to do. Half of the admittedly small crowd is looking at him as if they wish they didn’t have to admit that he deserved it but they’re doing it nonetheless, the other half is just generally speechless, then there’s Lord Stark looking like he’s more happy with the result than any other feeling. Ah, and then Sansa is wildly clapping - right, at some point she ended up on his side if only because they live in the same place, he supposes -, Jon is clapping with a bit more composure while Robb has the face of someone who just got proved right in all of his assumptions.

Shit, this is embarrassing. Good thing that since it was all symbolic there’s nothing to win here.

And then.

“My lord, you should crown your queen,” the Smalljon says handing him a blasted crown made of white roses.

_Right_. No winnings, but everything else was supposed to go according to the book. And he doesn’t know what in the seven hells he’s supposed to do - he doesn’t know  _any_  of the girls in the audience and their mothers are all completely out of the question. Never mind that doing that to  _any_  woman here would be a disaster, because if  _he_  does that, he’s pretty sure that every lord related to the lady in question wouldn’t find it much amusing. At that point the only choice left might be Sansa, who would probably love that, but while he’s somewhat sure that Lord Stark would realize it was a safe choice to save his hide, he’s not sure he wants to risk it anyway.

Never mind that shouldn’t your  _queen of love and beauty_  be someone you actually care for and that you’re  _dedicating your win to_? Because in that case there’s just a choice, and -

Actually, why the hell not. If he goes for it, people will just have a laugh and think that he wasn’t taking the entire thing seriously, which is fine - it’s not like they’d take him seriously in the first place. And he surely wouldn’t risk offending anyone.

And at the same time, Robb would  _perfectly_  know that he’s not really joking.

He grins to himself.

“Fine,” he says, taking the crown. He pretends to glance at the crowd, then he just walks up to the stalls where Lord Stark, Jon, Sansa and Robb are sitting. And then he stops in front of Robb and  _shit do you have to put the thing on someone’s head or in their lap how is he even supposed to remember_ , and then he shrugs and places the crown on Robb’s head without too many ceremonies.

For a moment, no one says anything, then the entire crowd erupts in laughter -  _good_ , he was hoping they’d take it like that, but Robb actually looks  _very_  pleased with it and - he  _doesn’t_  take it off as they all move on to the castle’s main hall where they’re told food is ready for everyone.

Later, as they sit next to each other and thankfully not at the head of the table, Theon can’t help noticing that Robb still hasn’t taken the crown off.

“Wow, you really like being  _queen of love and beauty_ , don’t you?”

Robb snorts. “I like that  _you_  made me one, Greyjoy. So, does that mean you like me best in the entire realm?”

“You wish,” Theon replies as he feels his face go on fire.

But he doesn’t deny it. And maybe when the next day they go back to Winterfell and Robb is still wearing the damned thing, he smiles when he notices it, and it’s not the kind of smile he usually puts on to fool other people into thinking he’s forgotten the reasons why he’s here in the first place.

 

End.


End file.
